


Waiting

by livesybaby



Series: I'll be needing stitches [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:52:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6436258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livesybaby/pseuds/livesybaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First in a collection of Robron rambles... don't really know where this is going yet. Comment if you're interested and I'll continue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

I’m feeling nauseas. I’m on my third banana milkshake, the chips have gone cold and the McDonalds cleaning woman is giving me a weird look.  
It’s half annoyed that I’m the only person between her and clocking off early and half pitiful for the fact I’ve been sitting here on my own for an  
hour and half. My head told me he wasn’t coming an hour ago, my heart says he’s stuck in traffic. 

I chuck the rest of my meal in the bin and give an awkward nod to the remaining staff as I leave the premises. It’s dark now, really dark.  
He said he’d be here no later than 11 but it’s coming up to half twelve now and the only light is the large yellow ‘M’ that’s been taunting me since I got here.

I check my phone for the eightieth time, three notifications. Someone retweeted my post about Toyota,  
there’s an annoying little water bottle flashing at me, urging me to get hydrated and a text from Paddy asking me to take Leo to school in the morning.  
His WhatsApp icon says offline and the knot in my stomach says he’s forgotten about me.

By the time I’m back in the village the streetlamps are on but no one is about. My car stutters to a standstill outside the pub and I sigh audibly,  
letting my forehead rest against the steering wheel. I don’t have the energy to be questioned by Mum about why I’m back so early, I told her I was on a date.  
“Don’t wait up” I winked at her, and it sickens me that I actually believed he would show, he never shows. 

It’s not being used that pisses me off; it’s the fact that I’m allowing it. If you’d asked me four years ago if I’d let a guy call me for a quick shag and  
then rush off back home to his wife, I probably would have decked you. I don’t like to say I’m going soft in my old age, maybe I’m getting weaker or  
maybe I just don’t care about myself enough to say no. I couldn’t face the psychiatrist appointments anymore so I stopped harming myself in ways  
that people would notice, maybe that’s what I’m doing now. Not physical self-harm but emotional, mental damage that’s irreparable but is a rush every time I do it. 

I chicken out and start my car again, Mum would probably be in bed by now but I don’t want to risk it. I drive to the scrapyard and sleep in the portacabin,  
if Adam sees me I’ll tell him I came in early to get paperwork done. I switch my phone off and leave it in the car, it’s not like I’m waiting on a goodnight text.


End file.
